


A Friend Request

by drbeyne



Series: A Friend Request [1]
Category: Sanditon (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M, HEA, Middle-aged Sidlotte, Modern Setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:02:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24147079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drbeyne/pseuds/drbeyne
Summary: Charlotte Heywood and Sidney Parker meet at university in the 1980s. She is involved in student politics, he infuriates her with his deliberately provocative and nihilistic comments.  After university she hears nothing from him until many many years later she receives a 'friend request' from him.And so begins our middle-aged Sidlotte...
Relationships: Charlotte Heywood & Sidney Parker
Series: A Friend Request [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1802758
Comments: 283
Kudos: 258





	1. A Friend Request

**Author's Note:**

> So many fans of Sanditon are no longer in the first flush of youth so I thought I'd try a middle-aged version because us women-of-a-certain-age still have it, you know!
> 
> This won't be long - 8 chapters or so.

It began with a friend request. She sat and stared at the name. Sidney Parker. That was not a name she had expected to see again and he wanted to be her friend. Had they ever been friends? Sparring partners was the kindest description but she’d never thought of him as a friend. And why now after all these years? 

“Charlotte!” her sister’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Yes, sorry, coming,” she replied and went to help Alison with making the beds.

As they tucked in sheets and wiped down en-suites, Charlotte continued to think about that friend request until eventually her sister said, “You haven’t listened to a word I’ve been saying, have you?”

“No,” she admitted. “Tell me again.”

“Not till you say what’s on your mind. You’re not still worrying about that booking are you?”

“What? No, not that. It was a friend request I’ve received.”

“Is that what you were doing, checking Facebook while I was hard at work up here!”

“No, it just popped up while I was checking what time the Patels are arriving.”

“And who was this friend request from, that’s sent you into such a tizz? 

“Sidney Parker.”

Alison frowned. “I don’t think I know that name. Who is he?”

“I was at university with him. I met him on my first day.”

Charlotte thought back. She’d met Clara and Esther on the first day, they’d had neighbouring rooms in halls. She wasn’t sure if they’d become best friends - Clara seemed a bit too meek and smiley, Esther a bit too sharp with a mean glint in her green eyes - but she was happy to have found people she could share those first bewildering days away from home. In the refectory that evening three boys came over carrying plates of food.

“Can we join you ladies?” said one of them, breathing beer fumes across the table. He’d obviously already visited the student union bar. Clara smiled up at them and they sat down, Esther and Charlotte rolled their eyes at each other.

“I’m Crowe, that’s Babbers and he’s Parker,” 

“What sort of name’s ‘Babbers?’” said Esther.

“Short for Babbington,” Babbers replied, smiling at her.

“What’s with the surnames?” said Charlotte. “You all go to public school or something?” They had that well-fed shiny look only the wealthy have.

The one called Parker looked up at her and scowled. “What, and you come from a long line of chambermaids?”

“And if I did?” she glared back at him. 

Babbers broke in before Parker could reply: “And so, what are your names, first or second, or both?”

They gave their names and Parker said, “Think we’re posh, you lot sound like you’re from some Regency novel.” He looked at Charlotte, “What was your name again? Oh that’s right, Heywood, I might as well call you Miss Heywood, then.”

Charlotte just stared at him. Why was this boy who she’d never met before, being so rude to her? Babbers, a smiley boy with a very short fringe and a round face held up his hands and said,”No, fair’s fair, we are public school boys and I’m afraid we are a bit posh but please don’t hold that against us.”

Clara asked, “Did you all go to the same school then?”

“We did and now we’re all at the same university. I know, further evidence of our strangeness,” and he smiled so apologetically that even Charlotte had to laugh.

After dinner, they all went on to the Freshers’ Disco and found themselves a table near the bar. It wasn’t long before Charlotte was up and dancing. She loved to dance, that sense of losing herself in the music. Later, when she returned to their table, hot and flushed and ready for a long cool drink, she’d found the Parker boy, sitting alone. He looked up at her and said, “You like to dance, then?”

“What of it?”

“No need to get defensive, it was just an observation.”

“You obviously don’t like dancing.”

“Not in the mood.”

She frowned at him and was just turning away ready to head back to the dancefloor when he said, “By the way, my name’s Sidney.” Looking at him again she saw a half smile where, up to then, she had only seen a scowl. It transformed his face, making him suddenly, unbelievably, there was really no other word for it, beautiful. Not sure what to do with the sudden pounding of her heart, she gave him a quick smile and almost ran away. 

Charlotte had soon thrown herself into university life, not studying of course but causes she was passionate about: anti-apartheid, nuclear disarmament, and supporting striking miners. It was the 1980s, the Thatcher years, and there was a lot to be passionate about. She still saw the friends she had made in that first week but not as much. But Sidney would pop up unexpectedly, just, it seemed, to annoy her. She remembered one of many of these encounters.

“Miss Heywood,” he said, throwing himself down next to her in the deserted union bar where she had gone to write a leaflet for a demo the next day. “Still changing the world, one leaflet at a time?”

“Piss off, Sidney”

“Nice.” He peered over at what she was writing. “What is it this time? Homeless dolphins or nuclear armageddon?”

She glared at him. “What do you care?”

“I don’t. I just think it’s funny that you do. You can’t change anything so why bother?”

“Why bother! Because the world’s shit and it’s up to us all to make it better.”

“The world is shit but that’s just the way things are. To think any different is just naive.”

Two things she couldn’t bear were people who were patronising and those who were arrogant and he was both. She no longer saw his good looks, he was just a boy who made her cross. She looked at him coldly and said, “I’d sooner be naive than not care.”

He shrugged, stood up and left her to it. Charlotte went back to her leaflet, the anger he’d provoked in her fuelling the passion with which she then wrote.

Alison listened to Charlotte’s memories as they continued with the day’s chores. “You never told me any of this before.”

“You had other things on your mind and there was mum and everything. I probably mentioned a boy who was really annoying, from time to time, I just didn’t go into details or give him a name.”

“Now I come to think of it, I remember you saying you'd had a row with someone in the street, was that him?”

“It was.”

She had been standing outside Barclays bank with some of her anti-apartheid friends, handing out leaflets when he had walked past. “God, you don’t give up, do you?” he said and grabbed one of the leaflets out of her hands. “Blah, blah, blah,” he said, pretending to read it. “What’s poor Barclays ever done to you?”

He leaned into her and she smelt the whiskey on his breath. He had a wild look in his dark eyes as if challenging her to a fight. If she’d been older and more experienced, she would have stepped back and not got involved. But she was young and took the bait.

“Barclays is making money out of apartheid South Africa.”

“So what if they are? Everyone has to make a living!”

“They’re exploiting black people!” Their voices were growing louder. 

“Everyone exploits everyone else, that’s just the way the world works, dear.”

It was the ‘dear’, said in his most patronising tone that pushed her to say what she said next: “Is that how your family made all its money then? From exploiting the black man?” She put on a deep posh voice, and took hold of an invisible glass and waving it around, said, “My family made its fortune on the back of those Negroes, nothing wrong with that. Good for Barclays, I say.”

Sidney went very still, then he hissed, “You know nothing about my family!” Then he shouted: “Nothing!” 

They stood glaring at each other, both breathing fast from the fight. Then he turned and strode off leaving Charlotte standing in the street, shaking.

Later that day, she had been in the library, not really noticing her surroundings, still caught up in the argument she had had earlier when she felt someone tug at her arm. It was Babbers. He pulled her into one of the stacks so they could talk.

“Charlotte, could you maybe go a little easier on Sidney?” he whispered.

“Go easier on Sidney!” she repeated speaking louder than she’d intended. “What about him going easier on me?”

“Listen, I know Sidney can be… difficult. But there is a good reason and sometimes he’s just a bit, um, fragile and it doesn’t take much to push him over.”

She stared at him, frowning. “What’s the reason then?”

“I can’t, it’s not for me to say. I just, I care about him ok?”

“Ok,” she said as he gave her a sad smile and left her. 

A few days later she had been sitting in the union bar, her favourite place to study in the afternoon when it was quiet. She was so completely absorbed in making notes from a book she was reading that she didn’t notice Sidney, can of beer in hand, until he sat down. Sensing him next to her, she immediately stood and started gathering her stuff together in order to leave.

“Don’t go, please,” he said and placed his hand on her arm. She looked down at him and saw such a sadness in his beautiful brown eyes that she sat back down again.

“I don’t want to argue with you,” she said. “I’ve got loads of work to do.”

“I’m not going to argue with you. Just do your work and forget I’m here.”

Remembering Babbers' words, she smiled, nodded and went back to her notes. A few minutes later she looked round at him and saw him staring into space.

“I don’t mean to be funny, but haven’t you got any work to do?”

“I’m doing Philosophy, a lot of it’s just thinking.”

“Ok…” she trailed off, frowned and went back to her work.  
And there they sat for the next hour or so, Charlotte studying while this sad beautiful boy sat quietly next to her, drinking his beer and thinking his thoughts.

“Wow,” said Alison. “What was going on with him?”

“Who knows. A while later though we received a donation to the Anti-Apartheid group - £100 in an envelope stuffed in our pigeon hole.”

“A hundred quid! That was a lot of money in those days. Still is. So you thought it was Sidney who put it there?”

“Again, who knows. I just thought it was interesting.”

Their conversation was interrupted then by the arrival of the Patels, a young couple down from London for a weekend in the country. While Alison showed them to their room, a cosy bedroom with a view over the fields, Charlotte prepared a pot of tea and a plate of her homemade shortbread which she served to them in the guest lounge. The rest of the afternoon was spent greeting the other guests who arrived back glowing after a day spent tramping down country lanes or exploring antique shops in local villages. There were always questions to answer and stories to listen to. It was a bed & breakfast that they ran but they did provide dinner if asked to, which the Patels had done. Charlotte busied herself in the large farmhouse kitchen, chopping vegetables for an aromatic stew whilst her cat, Bennet, wound herself between her legs demanding to be fed. Charlotte loved this kitchen, the uneven flagstones underfoot, the vast fireplace, the big scarred wood table. She could imagine centuries of Heywood women all working here, feeding their families and the farm labourers who had worked for them. But at the moment there was no farm so no workers, and no family, just Alison and Charlotte, and the paying guests who came to experience a bit of peace and quiet before heading back to their busy lives.

Once the vegetable stew had been served, followed by apple crumble and a scoop of ice cream made at a local farm, and then a cup of coffee in the lounge, the Patels retired sleepily to bed. The rest of the guests returned from dinner at a local pub. And finally it was one of Charlotte’s favourite times of the day. She poured herself a glass of wine, wrapped herself in a soft warm shawl and sat down on the bench outside the kitchen from where she could look up at the stars and breathe in the cool night air. Alison, having finished loading the dishwasher and giving the surfaces a final wipe, came out and joined her.

“I love this time of the day,” she said with a big sigh.

“I know, everyone tucked up in their beds, snug and fed, and the place to ourselves for a few hours.”

“So, have you decided what to do about that friend request? Sounds to me like he was just a mixed-up kid you didn’t really like.”

“Yeah, I know,” she said, taking a sip of her wine. “But I haven’t told you the whole story yet.”


	2. You Shall Go To the Ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your lovely, encouraging comments!

Charlotte had seen Sidney now and then after that, a quick hello when they met in passing or a drink when the six of them had met up, which they still did occasionally. It was Babbers who always organised these get-togethers, he and Esther had finally hooked up and were fairly gregarious. Sidney never spoke much at these events, just listened and drank, a lot. Charlotte was always struck on these occasions at how different her life at university was to theirs. While she was focussed on events outside campus, the plight of the homeless and unemployed, the threat of nuclear war, the increasing divide between those making a fortune out of Thatcher’s Britain and the dispossessed rioting in its inner cities, the rest of them were preoccupied by their courses and who was going out with who.

Time passed and Charlotte was coming out of one of her final exams when she saw Sidney leaning against a wall outside. He waved and pushed himself through the hordes of people pouring out of the exam hall.

“Were you waiting for me?” she said, surprised.

“I was. How was your exam?”

“Not great. I’m realising that maybe I should have done some more work these past three years.” She smiled ruefully. “Did you come here just to find out how badly my exams are going, or what?”

“No, actually, I came to ask if you were planning to go to the Graduation Ball?”

“God no! Why?”

“Babbers thinks we should all go. He says we met on the first day and so we should all be together on the last day too.”

“Oh. Really?”

“‘Fraid so. So will you come?” He looked at her hopefully, smiling. Charlotte softened seeing that beautiful smile.

“Do I have to wear a gown? I’m not wearing a gown.”

He laughed, “You can wear anything you want to.”

She frowned, thinking. “I was planning to go home straight after the exams. My mum’s not been well and…”

Sidney’s eyes immediately filled with concern. “No, you must see her!” Then he said, “But you were planning to come back for your results, weren’t you? The Ball’s that night so you’d only need to be here for a couple of days.” 

Charlotte was disarmed by his concern. “Very well, I’ll go to the bloody ball.”

Sidney smiled happily, saying “Good, I’ll go get you a ticket” and he bounded off.

“I remember that now,” said Alison. “You were fretting about what to wear and mum found you that beautiful dress she’d worn in the 60s.”

“I loved that dress. Do you remember, it had that really tight waist and then the full skirt to the knee, all silk and lace.” She sipped her wine and then said, “I say I loved that dress, I loved it until I turned up at that blasted ball.”

When she had looked at herself in the mirror she had been pleased at the way the pale yellow of the dress had complimented her brown eyes and freckles. She didn’t normally pay much attention to her appearance, it felt shallow to be concerned about such things when there were so many more important things going on in the world. But, for once, she let herself enjoy the simple pleasures of dressing up for a party. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and snapped strings of big plastic white beads round her neck and wrist that matched the 60s style of the dress. She allowed herself the thought that she looked pretty good. And that thought buoyed her up to the minute she arrived outside the student union where the ball was being held. All around her were girls in huge satin ball gowns with big puffy sleeves, their hair equally puffed up in great big perms, delicate gold chains round their pretty necks. She looked down at her secondhand dress and felt suddenly very wrong. This is somewhere she really did not belong. But before she could turn round and scuttle home, she heard her name being called. Sidney strode over, ridiculously handsome in his evening suit.

“You said I could wear anything I wanted to,” she hissed.

“You’re not like anybody else here, so why do you want to look like them?” he said, smiling at her. 

Taken aback, she could only say, “Where are the others?”

“Already inside.” He stuck his elbow out at her and, unsure at first, she then took his arm and the two of them climbed the steps into the student union building.

They found the others in the bar which had been transformed by the ball committee into a cocktail lounge. Red carpet overlaid the sticky floorboards, pink velvet cushions had been placed on the bench seating round the room, and bunches of fairy lights provided a soft bewitching glow.

“It’s actually quite magical,” Charlotte breathed when she first saw it.

“Glad you came after all?” said Sidney and she nodded.

Babbers and Crowe were smart in their evening suits and Esther and Clara resplendent in their floor length satin gowns, making Charlotte once again acutely self-conscious in her 60s party dress. 

“You’re brave,” said Clara.

“I don't think we’ve ever seen your legs before,” said Esther, drily.

“I’m not sure I know what you’re saying,” said Charlotte, frowning. 

“They’re saying, “You’ll do very well”,” said Sidney.

“Yes,” agreed Crowe, “you look very chic. Now let’s get some cocktails.”

Be-suited waiters weaved amongst the groups of students, carrying trays of cocktails. Once the group each had one in hand, Babbers raised his glass and said, “To us!” They all raised their glasses too. “And to Sidney,” he added, “who got a First.”

Charlotte looked at Sidney in astonishment. “A First, in Philosophy? Isn’t that about ideas and beliefs? And you always claimed to believe in nothing. What did you do, write your final year dissertation on nihilism?”

Sidney looked sheepish and admitted, “I did, actually.”

Charlotte had to laugh.

“How about you, Charlotte, how did you do?” asked Babbers.

“A Desmond.” She saw them all look blankly at her. “A 2:2, as in Desmond Tutu, hence a Desmond. Otherwise known as the activists’ degree. Completely useless but what I expected given the amount of work I didn’t do.”

“So what are you going to do next?”

Before she could reply, Sidney said, “Charlotte’s going to change the world.”

She looked at him, expecting to see that familiar sneer but was surprised to see him smiling fondly at her. She raised her glass to him and said, “Maybe I will.”

After another cocktail a buffet was laid out and people rushed over to load their plates. Whilst waiting for the crush to disperse, Sidney took the opportunity to say quietly, “How’s your mum?”

“She’s better, thank you.”

“But it’s something serious?”

Charlotte was surprised that he asked, most people were happy to leave the subject after her first bland reply. “It is, actually. She’s got MS, you know - multiple sclerosis. She goes through good phases and bad. She did relapse but she’s gone into remission now, thankfully.”

“So you were worrying about her while you did your exams? No wonder you didn’t do as well as you hoped.”

“That’s kind of you to say but my result is completely my doing. I do worry about her but my mum’s brilliant, the way she copes with her health. She’s more my inspiration than anything.” She paused and then said, “But thank you for your concern, I appreciate it. And sorry I wasn’t more complimentary about your First. It's brilliant, well done.”

They looked at each other for a moment and then went to get some food.

Later, Charlotte said to Babbers, “What’s going on with Sidney? He’s actually being nice to me.”

“He can be nice, you know, Charlotte. But, you're right, he has been in a good mood recently. I don’t know why but let’s just enjoy it while we can.”

The sound of the hired band could suddenly be heard from the main hall and Sidney came over, saying, “So are you going to come and dance then?”

“Dance? You?” said Charlotte

“Yes, me. It’s what you do at balls, isn’t it, dance?”

They all filed into the hall, which, like the bar, had been transformed, with streamers in great loops across the ceiling and tables covered with white tablecloths dotted around the edge of the room. They found themselves a table but Charlotte didn't sit down. The dance floor was already filling up, the band playing 70s and 80s covers that made her want to be up and dancing. To her surprise, Sidney was the first to join her and it turned out he could dance after all. The hours slipped by, the others came and danced too, periodically returning to their seats for a drink and a sit down. But Charlotte and Sidney barely stopped. They seemed in sync, they danced together, they danced apart, the beat of the music and their bodies acting as one. At one point they caught each others’ eye and just both burst out laughing with the simple joy of having fun together. The band came off and was replaced by a DJ who started to slow the music down. Groups of friends were replaced by couples, entwined, swaying to the music. Charlotte started to walk off the dancefloor but Sidney caught her hand and pulled her to him. She looked at him, a question in her eyes, and he just gazed at her, putting his arms around her waist. Transfixed by the intensity of his eyes on hers, she raised her arms and placed them around his neck. They fitted together like two pieces in a jigsaw. The tension between them became almost unbearable until Sidney lowered his head and kissed her, his lips soft against hers. She responded, it felt right, it felt perfect and then -

“And then, what?” said her sister Alison.

“And then he suddenly pushed me away, looking absolutely horrified, muttered something and disappeared.”

“No!” Alison looked appalled. “That’s terrible! You know, you’ve never told me this before. When we asked you afterwards, you just said you’d had a nice time.”

“I was so hurt and confused and humiliated that I thought the best thing to do would be to just try and forget it had ever happened.”

“But what happened when you saw him again?”

“Well, that’s just it. I never did see him again. I made my excuses to the others and went back to my room and came home the next day on the first train I could.”

“So the first time you’ve had any contact with him since that night was today, 30 years later when he decides to send you a friend request on Facebook?”

“Exactly.”

“So, why now?”

“That’s the question.”

\----------------------

For the umpteenth time that day, Sidney Parker checked his phone to see if Charlotte Heyward had accepted his friend request.

“Has she not accepted yet?” said Jenny

“No, she’s probably wondering why I’m getting in touch now, after all these years, if she even remembers who I am. I shouldn’t have let you talk me into this Facebook stuff. I should have just emailed or phoned.”

“This is better,” Jenny said patiently, as if they hadn’t already had this conversation several times already. “This way, she gets to decide whether she wants to be in touch. Trust me.”

“I do, trust you,” he said, looking at her fondly. “I’m just impatient.”

“You really want her to reply, don’t you?”

Sidney had to admit that, yes, he really did.


	3. What Would Charlotte Heywood Do?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a sad chapter. But I think you're lucky if you get to middle age without experiencing some of life's cruelties. If miscarriage and stillbirth are triggers for you, please stop reading from 'Charlotte yearned for a baby' and start again at 'Being out of London'.

The next morning, as Charlotte stood at the stove frying bacon and eggs for their guests’ breakfasts, she realised the real question wasn't ‘why now?’ but why was Sidney Parker on Facebook at all? He had been the most unforthcoming person she had ever known. After three years together at university, what had she learnt about him? That he was infuriating and a great kisser but that was about all. Even after 30 years, could he really have changed so much that he was now posting pictures of his holidays and telling his followers that he’d just mown the lawn? 

After being told there were no more cooked breakfasts needed, Charlotte ensconced herself in their little office and looked for Sidney’s Facebook page. He had no privacy settings so she could see it all. His three ‘friends’ all shared his surname and the one post on his wall welcomed him to Facebook. She hadn’t known what to expect but was both vaguely relieved not to see him relating the mundanities of his day and bemused that he had a page at all. And why would he want to add her, of all people, to his exclusive club of three friends? Realising that asking herself questions to which she had no answers was a pointless activity, she quickly clicked ‘Confirm’ on the friend request. Then, opening the business email account, she devoted herself to reading and replying to enquiries and bookings from potential guests. A recent positive review of their B&B had continued to bring in a steady flow of new interest which was gratifying, if hard work. 

Whilst dealing with the latest email in the inbox, a message popped up from Facebook Messenger. It was Sidney. Cautiously, she clicked on it and read: Hi.

\- Hi, she replied. 

There was a pause and then: You remember who I am then?

\- Vaguely. Weren’t you that annoying guy at university who kept picking fights?

\- That’s me.

\- Ok. And here you are again. Should I be worried? 

\- No. Absolutely not. In fact, quite the reverse. I’d like to tell you why I got in touch but in person, face to face. Would that be alright with you?

\- It depends where you are, you could be anywhere for all the information you provide on Facebook.

\- Actually, I live quite close by, in Sanditon and I see you live in Willingden.

\- Sanditon! As in Sanditon, 12 miles away?

\- Yes. So, can I treat you to coffee, someplace in between? 

They soon settled on an afternoon the following week at a local market town, half way between their two homes, and Charlotte then logged off. Alison stuck her head round the door at that moment and seeing the look on her sister’s face, said, “You look a bit befuddled. What’s up?”

“I’ve just arranged to meet Sidney Parker next week for coffee.”

“Good.”

“Why good? It seemed like a good idea at the time but, do I really need this? He didn’t exactly bring me a lot of joy 30 years ago. Why do I want to put myself through all that again?”

“Hey, you’re just meeting for coffee,” she said reassuringly. “More importantly, how are the bookings looking?”

“There’s a lot coming for Easter.”

“I was just speaking to Janey and she said she’ll be here for the Easter holidays and is happy to pitch in.”

Charlotte smiled happily. “Good girl. I've always said she’s my favourite niece.”

“She’s your only niece.”

“And my favourite.”

Later that day, as they were tidying the guest bedrooms, Charlotte suddenly said, “What if he’s found religion and wants to share the Good Book with me?”

Alison rolled her eyes. 

“Or he’s at AA and has to say sorry to everyone he’s ever hurt?”

“Or worse,” said Alison, “He has a combover and a beer gut hanging over his trousers!”

The two sisters shrieked with laughter.

“Well, I should talk,” said Charlotte when they’d calmed down. “I’m no spring chicken either. She looked at herself critically in the ensuite mirror. “Look at all these lines under my eyes, round my mouth, on my neck…” She stood sideways on. “And just look at those hips! I used to be so slim…”

“Listen to yourself!” cried Alison. “How many times have you said: why should women apologise for getting older?”

“I know.” Charlotte smiled ruefully. 

“You look like the fabulous mature woman you are.’”

“Do I?”

“Yes. Now come help me make this bed.”

If Charlotte was honest, though, it wasn’t her looks that were bothering her, it was the disappointments of her life. She didn’t like dwelling on the past, preferring to think about the present or future. If she ever reminisced it was only as far back as her father’s death, after which Alison and her daughter, Janey, had come to live with her. Alison was just divorced and Janey was 10. Life had definitely improved then and Charlotte was a loving aunt, always ready to listen, console or celebrate as needed. But when she thought back further, back to those years at university and when she had been so fervent about her beliefs, so desperate to make a difference, she felt depressed at how little she had achieved. 

She’d moved to London after graduation and lived in a squat. That had been a fun time with a group of like-minded people who enjoyed late night conversations putting the world to rights. There had been a lot of drink, a few drugs, a lot of casual sex. The group had taken over a disused building and turned the ground floor into a community centre. Charlotte had worked there, doling out plates of food and sympathy to the people who came through its doors. She ran women’s groups and creches and housing advice sessions. In her spare time she’d gone on marches and shouted slogans, gone flyposting and handed out leaflets. It was exciting and she had purpose. Charlotte really thought they were going to change the world. But as time went on, her hope began to fade. Successful campaigns were rare; things remained the same or grew worse. People continued to come through their centre doors bringing with them the familiar issues of abuse and poor housing and intractable poverty. What these people really needed, she began to feel, was not her input, but simply more money and that was not something she could provide. 

She became fed up with the grubbiness of the squat, the endless discussions with no conclusions, the casual sexual liaisons. And then one day a young architect named James Stringer had come to look round the community centre, interested in what they had done with a disused building. He had asked her if she’d come for a drink with him so he could pick her brains about a project he was working on. He wasn’t like any of the men she had been out with up to then. He was neat and tidy, smartly dressed. The others in the squat called him ‘Charlotte’s yuppie.’ But as she got to know him, she realised he might be young, upwardly-mobile and a professional, but he had a good heart and he had worked hard to get to where he was now. Even more alluring was the fact that he actually seemed to like her and her alone. When he asked her to marry him, she said yes. Though she knew deep down that whilst she liked and admired him, she didn’t love him the way he deserved to be loved. 

Charlotte yearned to hold a baby of her own. James was also keen to start a family. Other people their age were popping them out, how hard could it be? As it turned out, very hard and traumatic. After the first couple of miscarriages, they consulted doctors who said they were young, there was time, be patient. But there were more miscarriages. They read self-help books; they changed their diet, Charlotte took her temperature constantly and sex became less a loving activity than a scientific experiment. And she had become pregnant, again, and this time she stayed pregnant. She was so used to disappointment by this time that she refused to get excited. But as the pregnancy continued, she began to hope that this time, maybe… They both grew excited. They had whispered conversations about their baby, fearing that talking louder might tempt fate. Eventually they felt they could tell their parents. But they did this with crossed fingers. James pampered Charlotte, fetching and carrying, bringing her flowers. Ordinarily, she would have resisted such ‘unnecessary fuss’ but she felt like she was carrying something so fragile, she needed to be cosseted in order to keep it alive. As her due date approached she grew in confidence. Surely the danger was now past? They discussed names and bought a cot. Charlotte couldn’t resist buying cute little baby grows and tiny woolen hats. And then came the day when her contractions began and James drove her to the hospital. Hours and hours and waves and waves of excruciating pain later, Charlotte lay back on her pillows and heard - nothing. Nothing except worried mutters from the midwives. She looked anxiously at James:

“What, what’s happening? Where's my baby?”

And then the words, “I am so sorry, Charlotte, your baby has died.” Explanations followed but Charlotte heard none of them. Someone was keening and she realised it was her. They gave her her dead baby to hold. So perfect in every way, except she wasn’t breathing. Charlotte felt like her heart was smashed to pieces. The pain of childbirth was nothing to this. James tried to comfort her but she didn’t want him. She wanted her baby girl.

Charlotte wanted nothing from James after that. His love, his care, all just irritated her. It was a sign; they were never right for each other. If they had been, they wouldn’t have failed so spectacularly at what was, after all, the most natural process of all. These feelings of bitterness and shame overwhelmed her and eventually she moved out. She moved back home, only the love and care of her own mother could help soothe her.

Being out of London helped as well, away from all the things that could remind her of her past. She worked on the farm, enjoying feeling her strength come back, taking pleasure in the simple joys of hearing birdsong on a cold crisp morning. She asked James for a divorce and he didn’t refuse, knowing that something fundamental had broken between them. 

Charlotte couldn’t help notice that her mother’s health was slowly declining. Her mother was neither the martyr nor the drama queen. She asked for help when she needed it but otherwise managed by herself, always more interested in what was going on around her than focussing on herself. Charlotte slowly realised that her mother was asking for more and more help. She gave up tentative plans to move on, and instead devoted herself to caring for her mum.

“You shouldn’t be looking after me, lovey,” said her mother. “You should be living your own life.”

“For the time being, this is my life, till we get you better.”

They both knew there was going to be no getting better, but they kept the illusion going for as long as they could. Charlotte’s father was delighted to have his eldest daughter back with them. He couldn’t look after both his wife and the farm. It was almost unbearable for Charlotte to see her beloved mother slowly slipping away. She caught herself wishing that it would soon be over and then felt horrible for such thoughts. When she finally died after contracting pneumonia, Charlotte thought her heart would break once again. 

Whilst still in the fog of grief, she began to notice her father occasionally acting strangely. He was more forgetful than usual, coming in and out of the house looking for his favourite flat cap. She caught him once, at night, seeming to have got lost on the way back from the bathroom. He laughed these episodes off as just the quirks of getting old and missing his wife. But then some of the farm hands wanted a quiet word with her, saying they were worried about the old man. He was forgetting how to drive the tractor and he hadn’t ordered enough seed. The doctor diagnosed dementia and the next 7 long years were spent looking after him. She did this mostly alone, Alison having by then married a brute who begrudged her the time she spent with their daughter, let alone any time she might want to spend helping her sister. 

Charlotte tried to look after both her father and the farm. She wrestled with the farm’s finances, but to her it looked like the business was in serious trouble. Her father had been hiding the problems from his family. There were enormous debts and no way to pay them back, except by selling land that had been owned by their family for centuries. Charlotte had to do what no farmer can bear to do, sell land. 

These were all the memories that had started to plague Charlotte again. Memories of what she saw as failure after failure; failure to have a child, failure to keep her parents alive, failure to save the farm. As the day grew closer to meeting Sidney, Charlotte’s feelings of failure turned into resentment against him for inadvertently making her dredge all this stuff up again. She considered cancelling, but somehow couldn’t be bothered. 

When the day arrived, Charlotte left it to the last minute before getting ready, throwing her cherry red sweater over a black wool skirt and twisting her hair up into a loose knot at the back of her head. She left late and by then it was pouring with rain. She ran to the car but her coat was already drenched. The rain had brought out the traffic and she sat, damp and uncomfortable in a line of traffic held up by a slow-moving tractor. When Charlotte arrived there was nowhere to park and in the end she stuffed her car into a space that wasn’t quite big enough and ran to the cafe, stressed and irritable and not in the mood for reminiscing.

The cafe was full of people sheltering from the rain. A man at the back stood and waved when he saw her, and she weaved herself between the too close tables to join him. Not really looking at him, she took off her wet coat and hung it on the back of a chair and sat down. He sat down opposite her and then she looked at him. It was Sidney. No combover, no beer gut that she could see. The beautiful boy of 30 years ago had turned into a handsome man. There was grey in his still thick dark hair, and wrinkles around his eyes but he had filled out somehow, he looked substantial, solid. No longer the sad vulnerable boy who looked like he could blow away in a gust of wind. Unfortunately this wasn’t enough to lift Charlotte’s mood, despite the warm smile he gave her.

“Hello.”

“Hello, sorry I’m late. Traffic, nowhere to park, rain…” she said, looking around for the waitress. They ordered coffee and while they waited, Charlotte said, “So you noticed I changed the world?”

“Yes, I was going to congratulate you on that.”

“I did a good job, didn’t I?”

The coffees arrived and Charlotte took a sip and lent back in her chair. “So why am I here?”

This wasn’t quite going to plan, thought Sidney. He had been looking forward to seeing her, to offering his reason for this meeting as a kind of gift, as a way of making amends, of telling her how important she’d been to him. But this harassed abrupt woman sitting in front of him didn’t look like she was in the mood for his story. He had to admit she still looked good though. He had thought her beautiful when they were young, even more so because she seemed completely unaware of how she looked. And if there were lines now where once there had been dewy soft skin, they didn’t detract from her full expressive lips and lovely brown eyes. Which were now, he had to admit, throwing out a challenge to him to make this trip, out in a storm, worth her while. 

“I wanted to tell you something, something about you and the effect knowing you had on my life.” He could see her starting to frown, that familiar frown from when they were young. Nevertheless, he ploughed on. “After university I went through a rough time. After spending too long in a pit of darkness and self-pity, it suddenly occurred to me to wonder what you would do in my situation. You always seemed to see things so clearly. So I imagined what you’d say and I then followed your advice, which made me feel better. After that, whenever I had a problem or didn’t know what the right course of action was I’d ask myself, “What would Charlotte Heywood do?” and you always came up with the right answer. 

“My brother and sister-in-law died in a car accident and I ended up as their children’s guardian. Whenever they didn’t know right from wrong, I’d ask them the same question: “What would Charlotte Heywood do?” and then they’d choose the right thing to do. So you were kind of part of our family. Roll on twenty years and Jenny, my youngest niece and who still lives with me, saw an article online about you and your guesthouse. She was so excited that you were a real person. You see, she and the others had thought you were a fictional character that I’d invented to teach them how to behave. So then I told her about how we’d met and everything and she encouraged me to get in touch to tell you how important you’d been to us all...” While he’d been speaking, Charlotte’s frown had grown deeper and her arms were now tightly folded around her body. He trailed to a stop.

Charlotte, listening to all this, had felt increasingly dismayed. What was worse she could feel an overwhelming need to cry. She had to get out of there, but before she did she managed to spit out the words: “I’m so glad the pretend Charlotte Heywood has been such a success. The real Charlotte Heywood, unfortunately, has been a fucking failure.” And with that she snatched up her damp coat and forced her way through the crowded cafe and back out into the rain. In the sanctuary of her car, she slammed the door and finally let the tears come. As the rain beat down on the roof and rolled down the windows, Charlotte’s body shook with sobs as she grieved for her mum, her dad, and the child that never was. 

Back home, Alison heard the door slam and Charlotte’s familiar footsteps and called out, “Home already? How did it go?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“That good?” Alison came out of the office and seeing the look on Charlotte’s face, knew better than to say anything else except, “Oh love, can I get you a cup of tea?”

Charlotte smiled sadly at her sister and shook her head. “I’m just going to go and have a lie down. I’ll be back down in a bit.”  


It was only once she was propped up against her pile of pillows and was gazing out through the window at the tree which stood just outside that she recalled what Sidney had said. His brother and sister-in-law had died. He had raised his nieces and nephews. She felt suddenly deeply mortified. While she had been wallowing in self-pity, he had been matter-of-factly telling her momentus things about his life and she hadn’t listened to any of it. What would Charlotte Heywood do? She would listen and empathise and admire. She felt absolutely ashamed of herself.

“So how did it go?” asked Jenny when Sidney returned home.

“About as badly as it could,” he replied. “I made her cry.”

“No! Oh my god, I feel terrible.”

“Why should you feel terrible?” he said. “You weren’t there.”

“No, but it was all my idea. I feel responsible.”

“To be honest, sweetheart, I don’t think anyone’s responsible. I could have read the situation better but I think what I said sparked something in Charlotte that none of us could have foreseen. I just don’t know what to do now to make it better.”

“Leave it to me. It’s my doing, I’m going to fix it.”

Sidney, knowing what his niece was like, kept his counsel and went off to start dinner.


	4. A Visitor

The next afternoon, Charlotte stood in her kitchen surrounded by bags of flour and sugar, packets of yeast and butter. She was baking bread for breakfasts, shortbread for tea, and cake because she needed to bake. Baking soothed her and helped her think. She was kneading her bread dough, and trying to formulate a suitably apologetic message she could send to Sidney, when the old brass bell that served as their doorbell started jangling. She knew her sister was in the office so she continued with the process of turning and folding and pressing when Alison came in and said, “You’ve got a visitor.” She ushered in a young woman with long blond hair and bright blue eyes who strode over to Charlotte and stuck out her hand. 

“I’m Jenny Parker, Sid’s niece. I’m so excited to meet you.”

Charlotte rubbed her floury hand on her apron and shook the woman's hand. “Hello,” she said, smiling, curious about her visitor. She pointed to a stool opposite and said, “won’t you sit down?”

Jenny perched herself on the stool and looked around. 

“What a lovely room! I read that review and it sounded idyllic here but it’s even better in reality!”

Charlotte couldn’t help but laugh, pleased at her enthusiasm. “Thank you.This house has been in my family for a long, long time.” She finished the kneading and put the dough back in its bowl with a tea towel over it to prove. She then opened the oven and pulled out a tray of shortbread which she slid onto a rack to cool. “Tea?” she asked “and shortbread when it’s cooled down?”

“Mmm, yes please.”

Charlotte made a pot of tea with a couple of spoonfuls of her favourite blend of tea leaves and put it on the kitchen table.  
Jenny suddenly burst out: “Charlotte, can I call you Charlotte? Sid feels terrible about what happened yesterday and I feel terrible because it was me that persuaded him to get back in touch with you. I want to make it better? How can I make it better?”

Charlotte looked at her young eager face and smiled. “Did he send you here?”

“No! He doesn’t know although I did borrow his car so he knows I’ve gone somewhere. He’s always telling me not to meddle but it’s what I do!”

Charlotte laughed and poured the tea. “It’s me who needs to apologise. I don’t know what came over me. Too many memories, I think.”

“Would you see him again? So that you can both apologise to each other.”

“Well, I was going to send him a note…”

“No, no, you’ve got to see him. Listen, are you free tomorrow?” Charlotte acknowledged that she could be free in the afternoon and Jenny whipped out her phone, “Sid? You’re free tomorrow afternoon, aren’t you? No, that doesn’t have to be done tomorrow, do it the day after. Good.” She ended the call and turned back to Charlotte. “Right, you can come to Sanditon tomorrow. Come to the cafe where I work and I’ll make sure you have a table where you won’t be disturbed and you can start again.”

“Ok….” said Charlotte, feeling like she had just been ambushed by an unstoppable force. She stood up and checked on the shortbread which had cooled down but was still warm. Cutting two big pieces, she brought them back to the table and gave Jenny one of them.

Jenny took a bite and closed her eyes. “Oh, man, that’s delish,” she cried.

“So you work in a cafe?” said Charlotte.

“Part-time but I’m really an actor, or trying to be anyway. That’s why I’m still at home, to save on money and I can always get a train up to London for auditions and what have you. Sid’s great, so supportive. He told you, he raised us? Me and my sister, Alicia, and brother, Henry. I was only little when my parents died. He’s really like my dad but I call him Sid. I’m the youngest, you see. Alicia’s the oldest, then Henry. Sid was amazing, when you think of it, taking us all on but then he knew what it was like to lose parents when you’re young...”

“Excuse me,” interrupted Charlotte. “Sidney’s parents died too?”

“Yes, didn’t he tell you? When he was 16, his parents died in a helicopter crash. They were with some family friends and they all died. Really tragic. Sid says it sent him right over the edge.”

And there it was, the simple explanation to Sidney’s behaviour when they were young. He’d been grieving. Charlotte felt herself flooded by a wave of compassion for that young man she had known. But Jenny was still talking.  
“Anyway, it really helped us all that Sid knew what we were going through. And then he introduced us to you. Well, not you you, of course. But to ‘Charlotte Heywood’ who always knew how to be good. I even named one of my dolls, Charlotte Heywood. I’d say, “But I don’t want to go to school!” and Sid would pick up my doll and waggle her at me and say: “What would Charlotte Heywood do, Jenny? Would she go to school or would she stay at home and be bored?” and I’d do this big sigh and say: “She’d go to school.” And then I’d get up and go.”

“She sounds like quite the know-it-all,” commented Charlotte.

“Oh, she was but we loved her! I remember Alicia once saying: “Who is Charlotte Heywood, Uncle Sid?” and he said: “She’s a very pretty lady with a very good heart and she’s always going to be there to help you make the right decisions.””

Charlotte suddenly got up to check her bread dough, not wanting the girl to see her eyes had filled with tears. She was pleased her back was still turned when Jenny asked, “Do you have children?” She swallowed but managed to reply, “I don’t, no.” The dough had risen and she separated it into three loaves and placed them in the oven and then said, “I do have a niece, though, Janey.” 

Jenny drank some of her tea and said, “I’m so happy to have met you and that you’re a real person,” said Jenny. “Sorry, that sounds strange. But you know, we thought Sid had made you up. And then I read that review and there was your name! I flew into Sid’s office saying, “She’s real then? Charlotte Heywood’s a real person!” And then he told me how you’d met at university and how you’d always fought for what was right. And because he’d still been in shock from his parents dying like that he’d never been able to say how much he’d admired you. And then I said he had to tell you how important you had been to our family. So I found you on Facebook and I got him to set up an account because I said he had to let you decide whether you wanted to be in touch. Because this guy I’d known at school got hold of my email address and kept contacting me which I thought was rude. And Sid said he hated social media but I persuaded him my way was better and anyway, here we are.”  
Charlotte wasn’t quite sure how to respond to all this. So she said nothing but took two big pieces of shortbread and tied them up in a serviette and handed them to Jenny. “For you and Sidney. A peace offering and tell him I look forward to seeing him tomorrow.”

Back in Sanditon, Jenny burst into Sidney’s study and cried, “She’s lovely!”

“Who’s lovely?” said Sidney, patiently, putting down his pen.

“Charlotte Heywood, of course.”

“So you went to see her. That’s where my car’s been all afternoon.”

“Sorry about that, but this was important. Anyway you’re going to meet her again tomorrow, at the Meeting Place cafe. It’s all arranged.”

“Evidently.”

“Oh Sid,” she said plopping herself down on a chair by the desk. “Her house is gorgeous! It’s got this beautiful garden outside, a lawn and these amazing old gnarly trees, and roses round the front door and this lovely old bell you have to ring instead of a normal doorbell. And then inside it’s all old polished floorboards and big vases of garden flowers. And Charlotte was in this huge country kitchen in the middle of kneading some bread and there was this amazing smell of baking biscuits and it was all warm and cosy and she made me tea, proper tea with tea leaves and everything, in this darling old teapot and china teacups and saucers and - oh, I almost forgot, she gave me these. She said they were a peace offering.” And with that she unfolded the napkin to reveal the two big pieces of golden freshly baked shortbread. “Go on, taste it.”

Sidney obeyed and took a large bite. It was sweet and buttery and tasted of comfort. He smiled.

“So, I did good?”

“You did good, my child.”

“And you don’t mind seeing her again tomorrow?”

“No. I just hope this time nothing goes wrong.”

“It won’t.” They munched on their shortbread for a bit and then Jenny said, “Sid, if I hadn’t pushed you to contact Charlotte, would you have done it by yourself?”

Sidney thought for a moment and then admitted, “I don’t know.”

Jenny looked at him sternly. “Listen, you’ve spent so long looking after us but you don’t have to anymore. We’re all grown up now...” She saw his raised eyebrow and added, “Ok, I know I’m still here but what I mean is that it’s time for you to start thinking about yourself. We all think that, Alicia and Henry and me. You’re becoming a bit of a monk, doing all that swimming in the sea to take care of your ‘needs’.”

“Jenny! I can’t believe you’ve all been talking about this.”

“We have. You’ve never brought another woman into our lives before and you know, we’re really grateful for that because I don’t think we could have shared you. And thank god you never let yourself be caught by one of the ‘cheetahs’.” Sidney smiled at the term his nieces had come up with to describe the group of Sanditon women who kept a possessive eye on him. “And I can’t imagine you on Tinder.” Sidney gave an involuntary shudder. “But Charlotte Heywood is perfect, we’ve sort of known her forever, and besides, she’s a better cook than you are.” Sidney swatted his niece’s arm.

“I think Charlotte may want to have a say in all this, before you start planning out our lives and anyway, we haven’t had much of a track record up to now.”

Jenny shrugged and left him. 

Sidney was surprised at their conversation. He had known that his nieces and nephew could not have coped if he had brought a girlfriend or wife into their lives. They had clung to him for so long, so scared that he would leave them like their parents had. They had eventually formed a strong little unit which had become self-sufficient. He could have had a whole string of girlfriends if he had wanted; a single man taking care of three orphaned children appeared to be catnip to too many women. But he shied away from this attention, feeling like they were interested in him for the wrong reasons, he didn’t want to be seen as some kind of hero. He had put his nieces and nephew first and they had flourished. But maybe they were right, maybe it was time for him to now think of himself. And he couldn’t deny it, when he thought of seeing Charlotte again, he felt a flicker of hope and excitement he hadn’t felt in a long long time.


	5. A Sunny Day in Sanditon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your comments - I appreciate every single one.

Charlotte got up the following morning, wondering how her meeting with Sidney would go. She felt like she had only caught glimpses of the real Sidney up to now and she was curious to find out what he was really like. Unlike the previous week, she took care in getting ready and left in good time. The sun shone, the roads were clear and she had an enjoyable drive along the coast to Sanditon. The Meeting Place cafe was easy to find on the front and there was even a parking space on the road right outside. Entering the cafe, she saw Sidney leaning up against the counter chatting to his niece. He straightened up when he saw her and smiled tentatively. She took him in, the dark chinos, the white shirt open at the neck, his strong broad shoulders. He was still ridiculously attractive. She gave a big wide grin and his face lit up. There was that beautiful smile that Charlotte remembered from long ago. Sidney, in his turn, looked at Charlotte properly. She had filled out a little since they were young but that just made her more curvy in her navy blue wrap dress. The word ‘luscious’ popped into his head. And even better, she was no longer frowning as she had been the week before. Instead she gave him her lovely open smile that he had always hoped to provoke but rarely managed. 

Jenny led them to a table by the window then came back with two coffees.

“Sidney, I am so sorry…”

“No, it’s me who should apologise…” Sidney turned round and caught his niece, bent over the counter, her head propped up on her folded arms, listening rapt to their every word. “It’s such a nice day, I think we should sit outside. What do you think, Charlotte?”

“I think that’s a very good idea,” replied Charlotte, smiling.

“But I chose that table for you specially!” Jenny pouted.

“Yes, so that we were close enough for you to eavesdrop,” Sidney said, picking up both coffees and leading the way outside to a table overlooking the beach.

“I’m sorry about that,” said Sidney as they saw down again.

“She’s quite a force of nature, your niece.”

“Tell me about it. It’s a constant battle not to let her always have her way. I hope she didn’t railroad you into coming here today. She can be quite hard to say no to.”

“No, I’m glad she came to see me and I’m glad I’m here. Listen, I really am sorry about the other day. You were trying to tell me something important and I could only think about myself. Hearing from you set off a lot of memories that I had been trying to ignore and in the end they just got the better of me. It wasn’t really anything to do with you, you were just the catalyst. Anyway, I’m sorry and... can we start again?”

He smiled at her and said, “Hello Charlotte. It’s really good to see you after all these years.”

“You too, Sidney.” They raised their coffee cups and clinked them against each other in a toast.

“So, tell me Sidney, why are you living in Sanditon?”

“Didn’t I ever tell you? My family have been here for centuries. My great-great-great something-or-other took it into their head to turn it from a fishing village into a resort and from then on we’ve always had a connection to the place.”

“To be honest, you never told me anything about yourself. I think I’d remember if you’d said we lived so close to each other.”

“I’m sorry, I forget how closed off I used to be. You’ll be pleased to know I’ve relaxed a bit since you last saw me.” He gave her a half-smile. 

“I’m pleased to hear it.” She took a sip of coffee and then said, “Isn’t that strange, your family has been here for donkey’s years and my family has been in Willingden forever as well and they’re only 12 miles apart. I wonder if our ancestors ever met.”

“Probably not, my family being very posh and yours a bunch of chambermaids,” he grinned at her. 

“You remember our first conversation then?”

“How could I forget? This girl I’d never met before just started being rude to me.”

“Me rude to you? You were just as bad!”

They both grinned at the memory.

“Anyway, we weren’t chambermaids, my family were farmers.”

“And now you run a B&B.”

“And what do you do?”

He looked sheepish. “You’re going to hate this but I’m a landlord and property developer.”

“What, like Rachman?” Charlotte’s eyes glittered with mischief as she thought of the notorious 1960s slum landlord.

“Actually, I’m trying to be the opposite. Low rents, social housing, all that sort of thing.”

“Good for you. Is that what you’ve been doing since university?”

“No, it’s what my brother was doing and I took over after he died.”

Charlotte smiled kindly at him, “That’s an amazing thing you did, taking on his children.”

“It was a no-brainer, to be honest. They’d have gone into care otherwise and that wasn’t going to happen.”

“We look after the ones we love,” she said softly, as if to herself. Sidney looked at her with interest, thinking there was something more to her words, but instead of elaborating she asked, “How old were you when your brother died?”

“30.”

“And how old were the children?”

“Jenny was 3, Henry 5 and Alicia 8.”

Charlotte looked at him, awestruck.

“But how did you manage? I mean, did you know anything about bringing up children?”

“Nope. But I learnt quickly.”

“Jenny told me that your parents had died too.”

“Did she, ah…”

“You had already been through such a terrible loss,” she said with compassion, “and then you had to deal with it all over again, losing your brother like that. And those poor children must have been in bits.”

“Yes, but even if I didn’t know much about raising children, I did know a lot about grief and how it shows itself. So in some ways it was better that I was with them than anyone else. And they helped me too. Looking after them and dealing with their grief helped me understand and deal with my own.”

“I wish I’d known what you were going through when we were at university.”

Sidney looked at her, sternly, “Would it really have made any difference? I was still a dick.”

She thought about it. “You know what? Probably not. You’d still have been bloody infuriating.”

“Anyway, I didn’t want you to know. Everyone who did crept around me like I was going to shatter at any minute. It was great being with you, because you just treated me like the idiot I was.”

“So that’s why you kept appearing and prodding at me like you wanted to provoke a reaction?”

He smiled ruefully, “This is going to sound ridiculous in retrospect, but I wanted you to be my friend.”

Charlotte’s eyebrows shot up, “And you thought the best way to achieve that would be to make me really really cross?” 

“It was like if I got you all riled up, then at least I knew you had noticed me.”

“Oh Sidney,” Charlotte said, reaching for his hand on the table and squeezing it. “Babbers warned me once to go easy on you but he wouldn’t say why.”

“He was, he is, a good friend.”

“He and Crowe knew you when your parents died?”

“Yeah. I just walked round in a state of shock at first and no one knew what to do with me. But Babbers would just give me this little pat on the back now and then and Crowe would stick a can of beer in my hand and we’d sit together and say nothing. They kind of formed this protective wall around me. I didn’t have anywhere to go. Tom, my brother, was at university and my school took on boarders so I just moved into school and then moved from school to university and they just came with me. There was no discussion. Although I expect Babbers got a lot of stick from his parents. It was assumed he’d go to Oxford like his family always had. But I wanted to stay somewhere nearby because…” he trailed off. “Anyway that’s why we were all together.”

“You’re still in touch with them then?”

“Yeah. Crowe’s a hotshot lawyer now. He went to AA in the end - you knew he had a drink problem, right? We had to go through this excruciating period where he had to apologise to everyone for his former misdeeds. But he’s through all that now and is rigidly abstemious. Goes to the gym, drinks wheatgrass smoothies, meditates.”

“And Babbers?”

“Married to the lovely Esther, five children and a grandchild on the way.”

“Oh god, are we really that old?”

“No, they just started young.” He paused and looked out over the beach and to the glittering sea. Then said, with studied carelessness. “ And you? Is there a Mr Charlotte Heywood?”

“Divorced. Long story. You?”

“Same. Save it for another time?”

Charlotte nodded gratefully.

Sidney stood up. “Fancy an ice cream? There’s a Mr Whippy along the front.

They waved goodbye to Jenny and walked along the front to the Mr Whippy van where they each got a big whipped ice cream with a flake. As they walked to a nearby bench to sit down, Charlotte asked, “So do you still want to be my friend?”

He smiled at her, “I sent you a friend request, didn’t I?” 

“You did but a lot rests on what you answer to my next question.”

“Ok,” he said slowly, worried.

“Do you eat the flake first or push it down into the cone to eat last?”

Sidney’s face brightened. “That’s easy, always push the flake down.”

“Right answer. You can be my friend.”

They sat happily, side by side, with their chocolate flakes pushed firmly through the ice cream and into the cone, licking up the sweet creaminess and watching the seagulls swoop through the air, squawking. 

“You know what, I’ve never been to Sanditon before,” Charlotte said.

“Not even when you were a child?”

“My parents were farmers, remember, so no days off to go to the seaside. There were picnics in the fields and fairs in the village when there was spare time but no trips. And then when we were teenagers we’d go to Brighton.”

“Ah, Brighton, our great rival. It has managed to reinvent itself and stay popular and little resorts like ours can’t keep up. But it’s so expensive there now, lots of people are moving along the coast to find somewhere cheaper to live.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Good and bad. Some are bringing lots of new ideas and energy. They’re opening new cafes and art galleries and reopening some of our venues that had shut. But others have all sorts of problems. They’re poor and we already had a lot of needy people to deal with. That’s why I’m trying to provide as much low-cost housing as possible.”

“And I remember you saying there was no point trying to change anything. In fact, I believe you called me naive for caring.” Charlotte smiled, teasing.

Sidney sighed. “Yeah, well, that was my angry, nihilistic phase which I cleverly alternated with the sad drunken one.”

“I remember that one too. Did you never get any help? Any counselling?”

“At school I had to see the counsellor but I wasn’t interested and she finally gave up on me.” 

“What finally helped?”

“You did.” The answer was immediate and to Charlotte’s look of surprise he qualified his reply with, “Well you and your alter ego. When I started seeing things through your eyes and asking myself what you would do in various situations, it really helped.”

At that moment a tanned middle aged woman with expensive blond highlights and a very small dog stopped in front of them and cried “Sidney, darling! What good timing.” 

“Abigail,” said Sidney unenthusiastically.

“I was just talking to Councillor Thomas about the new flats and he was saying…”

“Abigail, can I stop you there. Can we talk about this at the meeting?”

“Oh, ok,” the woman replied, clearly disappointed. She glanced suspiciously at Charlotte who she had until then been resolutely ignoring. Then she smiled warmly at Sidney and said, “Well, I’ll see you soon, very soon, I hope,” and she walked off.

“I’m sorry I didn’t introduce you but to be honest, I didn’t want her to know who you are.”

“One of your many admirers?”

Sidney rolled his eyes. “Oh please, don’t even joke about it. Jenny and Alicia call them ‘the cheetahs’. They think I’m fair game. I hate it. Changing the subject, are you ok for time?”

Charlotte glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to be back in a bit but not yet.”

“Good. Can I show you something before you go?”

They stood up and Sidney led her along the front, past a row of Regency style houses and then down a side road where he stopped in front of an imposing cream building with pillars outside the front door.

“This is my family’s former home,” said Sidney. “It’s where I grew up and it’s where my brother then lived after our parents died and where I brought up my nieces and nephew.”

“It’s beautiful. You don’t still live here?”

“No. Do you remember that big row we had at university when I shouted at you in the street?”

“And I accused your family of profiting from slavery? I’m sorry I said that, I was too focussed on my own view of the world to be able to see…”

Sidney interrupted, “But the thing is, you were right. My family did make its money partly from slavery. I didn’t know for sure when you said it but I suspected it, which is why I got so angry because I wasn’t ready to acknowledge anything bad about my family. But I found out more later. My family had an estate in Antigua and some of the proceeds went into developing Sanditon. This ostentatious house represented everything that was despicable about where our money came from. I hated living here but I had to for the children’s sake. I couldn’t make them move out of the home they’d had with their parents. But when they grew up and moved away I told them about the family history and we all agreed to do something worthwhile with the house. So, now it's a community centre. Do you want to see inside? It should be quite quiet at this time of day”

Charlotte nodded and Sidney pushed open the front door. A young man in a small office just inside looked up as they entered.

“Hi Jim, this is my friend Charlotte, do you mind if I show her around?”

Jim nodded a greeting at Charlotte and said, “Be my guest, Sid.”

“On the right,” said Sidney pointing, “used to be the drawing room but is now a nursery. They’ll be busy so we’ll leave them to it.” Charlotte could hear squeals of toddlers’ laughter coming through the door. Sidney led the way further down the large hallway. “And back here is the children’s library. The local one got shut because of the cuts but we were at least able to help save the children’s books.” He pushed open the door and Charlotte saw a brightly coloured room filled with books, a fluffy rug on the floor and several big beanbags where mums and babies were sitting looking through picture books. “This room is where we have the foodbank.” They entered a door on the right and found a couple of women unpacking boxes of tinned goods. Sidney greeted them by name and introduced Charlotte. “Back here,” said Sidney continuing the tour, “is the kitchen and community cafe. A group of refugee women run it. Their food’s amazing.” They entered a lovely bright room with round wooden tables and children’s framed drawings on the wall. “And then upstairs are lots of rooms for meetings and yoga classes and what have you.” 

“It’s… it’s lovely,” said Charlotte, almost lost for words. “I worked in community centres for years after university and none of them were like this. I’d have thought I’d died and gone to heaven if I worked in a place like this.”

Sidney smiled at her, “Why doesn’t it surprise me that you did this type of work.” He then grew serious and, looking straight into her eyes, said: “Charlotte, I don’t know why you said to me before that your life had been a failure. But I just wanted you to know that, as far as I’m concerned you helped me, so, so much. All this is partly down to you. Knowing you helped make me a better person.”

Charlotte opened her mouth and then shut it again and then said, “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” They walked out of the building and returned to her car.

“Sidney, would you like to see where I live? You could come for tea, next week sometime?”

“Only on one condition”

“Which is?”

“That you have some of that amazing shortbread you gave Jenny.”

“It’s a deal.”

“Give me your phone.” Charlotte handed it over and he whipped out a pair of reading glasses before quickly entering his phone number. He saw her smiling at him and he smiled back, ruefully.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got a pair of those in my bag too,” she said.

He handed her phone back. “Now you can contact me without going through Facebook and I can get rid of that bloody page.”

Charlotte laughed. Then: “Thank you for what you said, before. I can’t tell you how much…” she trailed off and then reached up and kissed him gently on the cheek. “See you next week,” she said softly and got in her car and drove away. Sidney watched her go, feeling suddenly happier than he had in a long long time.

When Charlotte arrived home, Alison only needed to take one look at her face before being able to say, “I take it, this meeting went better than the last one.”  
Charlotte nodded and grinned and gave her sister a spontaneous hug.

Back in Sanditon, Jenny said, “It went well then, Sid? You didn’t make her cry?”

“It went swimmingly, thank you.”

“You like her, don’t you? I mean _like_ like her?”

“I’m not discussing this with you.”

“You do like her, I knew it! I’m off to text Alicia, she’ll be so excited!”

“Jenny please….” but she was off, thumbs racing across her phone.

Sidney took a deep sigh but couldn’t help grinning to himself.


	6. Eliza

Charlotte felt lighter, freer as if a great weight had been lifted by Sidney’s words. She _had_ been naive when she was young. She’d thought that all it would take was a lot of energy and goodwill and the world could be changed for the better. If growing older had taught her anything, it was that life was a lot harder and a lot more messy than she had ever believed possible. Did anyone ever have the life they had planned for themselves at the tender age of 20? Even though her life had not gone as planned, she had managed to help someone else be a better person. A person who was now, in turn, doing amazing things for other people. Maybe that’s how change came about, through these ripple effects. She laughed at herself, imagining what her younger self would say if she heard this. She’d think she’d gone soft. No, she would have lectured: we need structural change, a redistribution of income, a …. But that was ok, she didn’t disagree. But to know that she had helped even one person change was enough for her right now. 

These reflections followed her through the week as she cleaned and cooked, sorted out their guests’ issues and did a lot of baking. Finally, it was time for Sidney’s visit and despite more rain during the week, the sun was shining yet again. Unfortunately, they had a late booking from one of their regular guests, a Mrs Stirling, who could be very demanding. Alison though had assured Charlotte that she would take care of her so Charlotte and Sidney would be undisturbed. 

As Sidney approached the farmhouse, he reflected that it looked exactly as Jenny had described it. It was idyllic. He jangled the front door bell and a woman who looked like Charlotte, if a little stouter and a little more careworn, opened the door. 

“You must be Sidney,” she said. “I’m Alison, Charlotte’s sister.” 

Charlotte then appeared. “I thought we could have tea outside, it’s such a lovely day. What do you think?”

Sidney smiled, remembering the previous week. Alison was obviously as keen to eavesdrop as Jenny had been. “Sounds good. It looks like you have an amazing garden.” Charlotte led him to a wrought iron garden table and chairs out on the lawn by a large spreading oak tree and facing down towards a stream. “I’ll be back with the tea.” 

“Can’t I help?”

“No, it won’t take a moment.”

She left and he settled into one of the chairs. He closed his eyes and felt the warm spring sun on his face. He could hear the stream gurgling and there was the heady smell of flowers in the air. He felt a soft weight land on his lap and opening his eyes, saw a ginger cat making herself comfortable on his knees.

“You’re honoured,” said Charlotte returning with a tray laden with a teapot, cups and, he was pleased to see, a plate piled high with shortbread. “She doesn’t sit on just anyone’s lap.”

Sidney scratched the cat’s head and she purred happily as Charlotte poured them both a cup of tea. “This is just perfect, Charlotte,” said Sidney, taking a piece of shortbread.

“What, the shortbread?” 

“The shortbread, the garden, the house, everything. I can see why people would want to come and stay here.”

“Thank you. It’s worked out well, in the end.” 

“In the end?” 

He looked at her with such warmth and interest that she found herself telling him about her parents and the farm and dealing with the debts, and then the arrival of Alison and Janey.

“I’m sorry,” said Sidney, when she’d finished. “You never realise, do you, when you’re young how difficult life’s going to be.”

“You discovered that much too early.”

“True. But here’s to nieces and nephews for making it all worthwhile” and they clinked their cups together.

They were silent for a while after that, something not yet said growing between them. Charlotte finally decided to deal with it. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask…” she said slowly.

Sidney looked down at the cat on his lap and said softly, “You want to know why I kissed you and then ran away and never saw you again?”

“No. I want to know why you kissed me, then physically pushed me away, looked absolutely horrified and then ran away.”

Sidney turned quickly to look at her, the sudden movement dislodging the cat who ran off with a protesting miaow.

“Did I? I’m so sorry! I wasn’t horrified at you, I was horrified at the situation.” He paused, took a deep breath and said, “You see, I’d just got engaged and I suddenly realised I’d made a terrible mistake.”

Charlotte stared at him: “Engaged?!”

Sidney took a big sigh and began: “Jenny told you my parents died in a helicopter accident? Well, it wasn’t just them who died but a couple of close family friends who were with them. They had an only child, Eliza. We’d been childhood sweethearts, I suppose you’d call us, and when all our parents died it brought us even closer together. She moved in with an aunt and I used to visit her at the weekends from school and then university. I think if our parents hadn’t died we’d have eventually just drifted apart but because we had this shared tragedy we stayed together. When I look back at it all, it’s easy to see what went wrong but at the time I couldn’t see anything clearly. Now I can see that after the first bout of shock and grief, whilst I went all silent and moody, she seemed to almost enjoy the drama of it all. There’d be floods of tears and hysterics and long telephone calls to her friends going through it all over and over again. But it made me feel useful, having her cry on my shoulder, literally. When I went to university, she’d want me to ring her all the time. Do you remember when we had no mobiles and had to queue to use the only payphone in halls? I’d spend every evening waiting with a pile of 2ps in my hand ready to feed them into the phone while she demanded to know why I hadn’t phoned earlier or why I couldn’t speak for longer. We were both wretched. The end of our third year at uni approached and I panicked about what I was going to do next. And then I had the bright idea to propose to her. I thought that would solve everything. I’d have a purpose and a future mapped out and I hoped I’d be able to provide her with the security and structure I thought she wanted. Even though I couldn’t provide myself with those things, let alone someone else. It did seem to work for a while. I felt happy for the first time in a long time, thinking I’d done the right thing. And Eliza was over the moon, planning the most elaborate wedding, modelled on, would you believe it? Charles and Di’s….”

He saw Charlotte’s shocked face and laughed.

“In St Paul’s Cathedral?”

“Yup, Eliza’s aunt had some contact there. So anyway, then up came that ball and Babbers thought we should all go together and he told me I had to go and persuade you to come.”

“Which you did.”

“Which I did,” said Sidney, thinking back. “And then there you were that evening, looking so beautiful.” He saw the sudden surprised, pleased, look on Charlotte’s face. He smiled at her. “You had no idea, did you, how beautiful you were?” He wanted to add, ‘how beautiful you still are’ but thought it was too much, too soon. “All those other girls in their ridiculous dresses looking like marshmallows and there you were so simple, so elegant, so _real_. Then you talked so honestly about your degree and your mum. There was no fuss, you just owned your own feelings. We danced, it was fun. I hadn’t had fun like that for longer than I could remember. It just felt right, being with you, kissing you and then I suddenly realised I had made a terrible mistake and I didn’t want to marry Eliza at all.”

“Oh Sidney,” said Charlotte gazing at him with sympathy. “So what did you do?”

“I went to see her, to explain that we shouldn’t get married after all. But she was so wrapped up in the wedding plans, her aunt and all her extended family had got involved. St Paul’s had been booked and I just couldn’t say anything.”

“So you got married.”

“I did, in St Paul’s Cathedral with a reception at the Ritz. Everyone over-dressed and dripping in diamonds. Eliza had Diana’s dress copied with this great long train that kept getting in everyone’s way. We were rich, so it was all possible. Eliza had inherited all her parents’ wealth which included several properties. We moved into one in Chelsea and she became part of that whole Sloane Ranger set.”

“And you?”

“I drank too much. It wasn’t that I hadn’t been around those sorts of people all my life, it’s just that I no longer felt that I belonged, if I ever did. Eliza was in her element, splashing the cash and revelling in all the attention and notoriety that our wedding had produced. We were so young and we had this tragic backstory. Everyone wanted to know us. I tried to play along for as long as possible, but Eliza eventually started to get irritated with me. She didn’t think I was playing the part of the tragic hero well enough. She found herself new admirers to tell her sob story to, which now included not just her dead parents but her useless husband. Then she made it really obvious she was doing more than having admirers, but having affairs too. I had started to wonder what you would say if you could see me and the life I was living. I could imagine your frown and could hear your diatribe about the money we were wasting. Sometimes, after we’d been out spending hundreds of pounds on vintage champagne, I’d see the dark shapes of homeless people huddled up in doorways. And then you’d be there looking at me, outraged. So I started asking myself ‘What would Charlotte Heywood do?’ And you’d give a lot of this money away.” He looked at her. “And was I right, is that what you would have done?”

Charlotte thought of the work she used to do when there was never enough money and what she could have done if she had had access to a giant pot of money. She smiled and nodded. 

“Good. Because I started giving money to homeless charities, more and more until finally Eliza saw a bank statement and asked me where all these sums of money were going. So I told her and we had this enormous row. She said I had no right and if people were homeless it was their own fault for not working hard enough. So I gave her some home truths about our own lack of hard work and where our inherited wealth had come from. And then I moved out. I came back to Sanditon and moved in with my brother and his wife. I had no idea what to do with myself. I had a failed marriage, no practical skills and so I consulted your alter ego again.”

“And what would Charlotte Heywood have done?” said Charlotte, smiling.

“She would have done something useful with her life instead of moping around feeling sorry for herself.”

“Sensible, but not very specific.”

“No, but it was enough. I signed up as a volunteer to build a school in Antigua.”

“Ok, I wasn’t expecting that!”

“It surprised me too,” Sidney laughed. “But I had this strange compulsion to make amends somehow for my family’s shameful past and that huge waste of money that was my wedding and my married life. I sent off divorce papers to Eliza, claiming nothing of her inherited wealth, and flew out to Antigua. I wasn’t the only white guy there on a giant guilt trip, but I met some really interesting and kind Antiguans who patiently explained the wrongs that ancestors like mine had committed. Building a school was very welcome but was not going to absolve the guilt of slavery. I stayed on, found other building work and made new friends. After four carefree years I received the news that my brother and sister-in-law had died in a car accident. I flew home and you know the rest.” 

Charlotte looked at him, not knowing quite what to say. Before she could say anything, she heard Sidney say, gently, “And you, you said you were divorced too.”

Charlotte sighed. “That’s a much more dreary story. Too many crappy boyfriends. Then I met a nice man who I married because he wasn’t crappy and actually loved me. Registry office rather than St Pauls. Disco upstairs in a pub, not the Ritz. Then years spent trying to have a baby and not succeeding. Then divorce when it all got too sad and pointless.”  
Sidney gazed at this lovely, brave, honest woman and said, “Charlotte, do you think…” But he couldn’t finish what he wanted to say because at that moment an elderly woman came striding over the lawn towards them crying, “Charlotte, there you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere. My tap’s dripping again and I really wanted to have a lie down but it’s driving me mad. Please come and see to it.”

“I’m sure Alison can help you, Mrs Stirling.”

“Oh I had to send her off into the village to get me some of those lavender drops I need. Come on, chop chop.”

“I’ll be right there,” said Charlotte through gritted teeth and then looked at Sidney apologetically. “The curse of living above the shop, as it were. Do you want to come in and see some of the house while I deal with her.” 

They walked back inside, Sidney carrying the tray of empty tea things. Charlotte pointed out the kitchen and went to find a spanner before attending to her annoying guest. Sidney took the tray into the kitchen and then walked around, taking in the copper pans hanging on the walls and the jugs of freshly cut flowers. He then wandered down the corridor to the guest lounge. He was admiring the old comfortable furniture and framed prints of the surrounding countryside when Alison appeared looking flustered. 

“I am so sorry, Sidney. I suppose Charlotte’s been nabbed by Mrs Stirling. That woman’s a menace. I kept her away from you both as long as I could but then she went with the divide and conquer ploy.” Charlotte arrived then with her spanner.

“The dripping tap again?” said Alison

“Un huh. As usual she hadn’t twisted the tap round firmly enough.”

“I’ll go take her her bloody drops she had me running out for. Oh, and she wants dinner here tonight too.”  
Alison left and Sidney was just about to say something when more people started to arrive.

“Oh Charlotte,” said a tall horsey looking woman striding into the lounge, “I found that antique shop you were telling me about. I found this darling little milk jug, I must show it to you.” And she started rummaging around in her big handbag.

“Do you mind, Mrs Warren, if you show me later, it’s just that I was showing Mr Parker here around and he needs to go soon.”

“No, no dear, off you go. I do hope you decide to make a booking, Mr Parker, my husband and I love it here.”

Charlotte all but pushed Sidney into the kitchen and shut the door. “I thought we’d never escape.”

Sidney laughed but then said, “I should go, you’re obviously busy.” They could hear more people coming through the front door.

“I’ve got something for you, well, not for you exactly, but for your food bank.” Charlotte opened up one of two boxes that were on the side. “It’s some bread and cakes, is that ok? I know food banks usually just have tins and packets but I thought people need some treats too, don’t you think?”

“You didn’t make all this did you?” said Sidney, admiring.

“I did. I like to bake.”

They took a box each out to Sidney’s car. When the car was loaded they stood there, looking at each other, unwilling to part just yet. “Charlotte, do you still like to dance?”

Her face lit up, “I love it, not that I have the opportunity much anymore.”

“Would you go dancing with me?” 

“Where can people of our great age go dancing?”

“There’s this guy in Sanditon who’s reopened an old venue and started a salsa night. It starts with a lesson for beginners and then it’s just dancing. It’s for all ages, he says. Would you come with me next week, Thursday night?”

Her mouth quirked into a smile. “Like a date?”

He smiled at her fondly. “Yes Miss Heywood, like a date.”

Her face fell suddenly. “I’m going to have to check with the diary and with Alison. We’re getting into our busy season and it’s not always easy to have a night off. Can I let you know?”

Sidney agreed, but couldn’t hide his look of disappointment. Charlotte felt an overwhelming urge to kiss him but instead she cupped his cheek with her hand and said softly, “I would love to go dancing with you,” He took her hand and kissed her palm. 

“Good,” he said and they stood looking at each other until the tension was broken by the sound of one of the guests:  
“Charlotte!” and Sidney finally got into his car and drove away.

Later, when Charlotte and Alison finally had a moment’s peace to talk to each other, Alison said, “Bloody hell, Charlotte, you didn’t tell me how gorgeous looking he is!”

“Didn’t I?” she replied innocently.

Her sister nudged her, “You fancy him, don’t you?”

“He asked me out, actually. But it’s next Thursday evening and I don’t know, we’re going to be so busy.”

“But Janey’s coming back this weekend. She can cover for you. Stay out all night, if you want.”

“Alison Heywood! What are you suggesting?” said Charlotte grinning. And she bounced up, feeling like a teenager and went to text Sidney that she’d see him the following week.

“Did you ask her out then?” said Jenny later that night. 

“Not that it’s any of your business but yes, I did.”

“So where are you taking her?” 

“Des’ salsa night.”

“Good choice. That’s on Thursday, isn’t it. Right, I’m going to go and stay with Alicia so you can have the place to yourself, in case, you know, you fancy bringing anyone home with you.”

“Jenny!” but she had already left to text her sister with the latest news. 

Sidney picked up his phone as well and quickly sent Charlotte a message: 

\- Turns out Jenny’s going to be away next Thursday in case you want to stay over. Then you can have a drink and not worry about driving. 

Charlotte read his text and laughed. Their respective families seemed to be very keen on getting them together. She thought carefully and then wrote:

\- Ok.


	7. Salsa night

Janey arrived home at the weekend, full of youth and exuberance. With her help the household chores were so much quicker, which gave Charlotte more time for her frequent exchange of texts with Sidney. He sent her pictures of the food bank volunteers giving thumbs up to her pile of home baked bread and cakes, she sent him photos of non-dripping taps and plates of shortbread. Janey, noticing her aunt spending much more time on her phone than usual, said to her mother “What’s got into Charlotte, she’s never off her phone.”

"That’s because your aunt has a beau.”

Charlotte, who had been engrossed in Sidney’s latest missive, suddenly heard what Alison had said and lifted her head. “A beau?” and caught the teasing look in her sister’s eye.

“A beau?” repeated Janey, looking a bit confused. “You mean, like an admirer?”

Charlotte smiled shyly. “I don’t know if that’s what…”

“Oh, for goodness sake, Charlotte, he’s obviously smitten. And, Janey, he is gorgeous, I mean really gorgeous.” Janey looked doubtful. At 20, she couldn’t imagine a man her aunt’s age could look anything other than, well, old. “And,” her mother went on, “he’s taking her out on Thursday night and so you’re going to help me with whatever needs doing that evening and in the morning. I don’t think your aunt is going to be coming home that night.”

“Alison!” cried her sister. 

Janey looked shocked. She wasn’t sure if she really wanted to think about her aunt in that way. She loved her and admired her and could see she had once been beautiful. And she still was, in a sort of older faded way, but she hadn’t really ever thought of her as a sexual being. 

“Ok, ok, I’ll do whatever you want. But please, I don’t want all the gory details!”

To her surprise, her mum and aunt greeted her words with a great cackle of dirty laughter.

It seemed to Charlotte as if everyone was considering Thursday night as a foregone conclusion, but was it? Sidney did seem to look at her with more than just the kindness of friendship. His intense gaze before he left last time, had made her heart race. So had the way he kissed her hand and when he said she had been beautiful. _Had been_ beautiful. Past tense. She looked again at herself in the mirror. Who was she kidding? She was 51 not 21. There was grey in her chestnut brown hair, there was even some in her eyebrows. And lines under her eyes and around her lips. And she swore her hips were twice the size they used to be, and then there was the cellulite that had started to dimple her thighs. There was a reason men Sidney’s age all seemed to go for women in their 20s. They just looked better than women her age. Charlotte suddenly shook her head. Some feminist you are, she chided herself. And yet, it was easy to know that she should be proud of the way she looked now, that her life and experience had shaped her looks, but it was harder to actually believe those things, deep down. And yet, as her phone pinged with another text message from Sidney and she felt a tingle of excitement, it occurred to her that she had felt as unsure of her looks when she had been 20 as she did now. And with that thought she decided to not think about what might or might not happen on Thursday night and instead simply look forward to more time in Sidney’s company.

Thursday evening finally arrived. With Janey taking the helm downstairs, Charlotte was able to take her time getting ready. She decided on a pale blue silk shirt and dark blue pleated skirt that she thought would be fun to dance in as the narrow pleats made the skirt full and flowing. She took care over her make-up, removing the grey from her eyebrows and softening some of the lines round her eyes and mouth. When she had finished, she gave herself a squirt of her favourite perfume and then looked at herself full-length in the mirror. She looked ok, she thought, and her heart raced at the thought of what might happen that night. She packed a few things in a small overnight bag, just in case, and then went downstairs. She found her sister and niece in the kitchen and said to them shyly, “Will I do?”

“Oh Charlotte, you look fantastic! He is a very lucky man,” cried Alison. Janey looked at her aunt, surprised. She really did look good, younger somehow. It wasn’t just the make-up, it was more the light in her eyes. She realised she hadn’t seen her look like this before. She hadn’t spent much time thinking about older women, too preoccupied by the trials and tribulations of being 20. But now she looked at Charlotte and said with honesty, “You look lovely. You really do.” 

The drive to Sanditon was uneventful but it still seemed too long. Outside the address Sidney had given her, stood the man himself. He was very handsome in a close-fitting dark shirt and trousers and his face broke into a wide smile when he saw her coming towards him. He bent over and kissed her cheek, then grasped her hand in his and said simply, “Ready?” she nodded and they went in.

In another life, the venue had probably been a disco. It had a dance floor in the middle, a bar along one side and there was even a glitter ball overhead. Couples of all ages were arriving, although Charlotte noted ruefully that she and Sidney were still some of the oldest people there. Before she could dwell on that too much, a man in tight trousers and a woman in a halter-neck dress clapped their hands and everyone turned to face them.

“We are pleased to see so many of you here tonight,” said the man. “We’re going to start by showing you a few moves and getting you into the salsa spirit.”

Someone shouted out, “I’m going to need a lot of spirit before I can wiggle my bum like you!”

Everyone laughed and the teacher said, “Plenty of time for that later. Now watch us.” And he and the woman then showed them some basic steps which did indeed seem to involve a lot of bum wiggling. “Now it’s your turn.” And they all tried to follow the steps. Charlotte caught Sidney’s eye and started to giggle, he looked so self-conscious.

“What?” he said, “what?”

The teacher came over and placed his hands on Sidney’s hips and started to push them side to side, which only made Charlotte giggle more. Charlotte continued to walk up and down, her hips naturally swaying. “Look at how your lady’s doing it,” said the man. “She has Cuban hips.” At those words, Sidney flashed Charlotte such a dirty sexy look that she blushed up to the roots of her hair. Sidney needed no more encouragement after that, his hips swayed just as well as Charlotte’s. The teacher then put on some music and showed them how to use these steps to dance as a pair. Sidney put his arm around her back and Charlotte rested her hand on his shoulder. She suddenly realised that they had not been so close since that ball all those years ago. 

“Remember the last time we danced together this close,” whispered Sidney.

“I was just thinking about that too.” There was no more time to talk though as they had to concentrate on fitting the steps together and to the music. Eventually, they got the hang of it.

“Right we’re almost ready to set you loose on the bar and then to dance for real.” There was a little cheer. “But we just want to show you one last move.” Each man released his partner who spun underneath his outstretched hand. It wasn’t easy, but Charlotte loved the spinning, her skirt spun around with her.

“Well done, everyone. I think you’ve all deserved a drink. Can I encourage you to try our rum and coke, _the_ Cuban cocktail.” 

Sidney fetched them both a drink. “You are a good dancer, Miss Heywood.”

“Not so bad, yourself, Mr Parker.”

“I remember the first time I saw you dance,” said Sidney softly in her ear. “You were so sexy.” 

Charlotte felt herself blush for the second time that night.

The lights, which had been quite bright for the lesson, then dimmed and the music came on and Sidney grasped Charlotte's hand and pulled her onto the dancefloor. They danced, they twirled, and if the steps weren’t always correct, the mood was certainly there. They couldn’t keep their eyes off each other and when Charlotte finally had to disengage herself to go to the Ladies’ and she overheard a woman saying to her friend, “I wish someone would look at me like that,” she instinctively knew she was talking about Sidney. When she came out of the cubicle the two women glanced at her with envy in their young eyes.

As she came back Sidney turned and looked at her with such longing, that she caught her breath. “Do you want to get out of here?” he said and she nodded. In a dark alley running down the side of the building, they kissed with such passion, that they were both breathless.

“You are staying with me tonight, aren’t you?” Sidney said urgently and again, she nodded.

It was only a short walk to Sidney’s flat on the seafront, only stopping to collect Charlotte’s bag from her car. They could barely wait until they were through the door before they were kissing again. Clothes were pulled off and they were in bed, all Charlottes’ worries about her body swept away by the kisses Sidney planted on every part of her. 

Later, they lay side by side looking at each other.

“Happy?” said Sidney softly.

“Happy, surprised, a bit stunned…” she laughed.

“Why are you surprised?” he said gently.

“Because… because you were always so annoying. I thought you didn’t like me. I certainly didn’t like you.” He feigned outrage and then smiled. “Then I did like you and then you ran away. And now, here we are.”

“And here we are,” said Sidney fondly, caressing her face with his fingers. “Perhaps we had to go through everything we’ve been through, to get to where we are now.”

She thought about it a moment. “You're right. Just promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

“Please don’t run away again.”

“Never,” he said and kissed her again.

Despite her lack of sleep that night, Charlotte still woke early as if she were having to go to work. She looked at Sidney’s sleeping face, so handsome with his full lips and still pronounced cheekbones. She was curious to look around the rest of his flat, which she had seen very little of the previous night. As she started to get out of bed, a hand snaked from under the bedclothes and grasped her arm. “Where do you think you’re going?” said a sleepy voice, and she let herself be pulled back into his arms. 

“You’re insatiable, Mr Parker” she whispered

“It’s entirely your doing, Miss Heywood,” he said and kissed her again.


	8. Happily Ever After?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In recent years my writing has been much more scholarly, but I have to say academics are, on the whole, not as enthusiastic, appreciative and forgiving as you lot have been. It's been an absolute pleasure to write for you all. Although this story ends here, a sequel has been forming in my imagination. Once it is written and if it's good enough, I'll post it here.

Once they had found each other again, they didn’t want ever to be apart. But it was not so easy. Jenny was back from her night away, demanding to know what she’d missed. Charlotte had work to do, with Easter fast approaching, the B&B was full every night. She was busy making beds, making breakfasts. Sometimes Charlotte could snatch a few hours in the afternoon and, if she knew that Jenny would be safely out at work, she would drive to Sanditon as fast as she could for a delicious encounter in Sidney’s bed. “I feel like a teenager, sneaking over here while the grown-ups are out,” she laughed. If Jenny was at home on one of these free afternoons, Sidney would come to Charlotte and they would walk along the stream or in the fields, hand in hand, talking and laughing. They enjoyed teasing each other, found the same things ridiculous, and had endless topics they could discuss. If Charlotte’s political fervour had mellowed over the years, her interest in the world and all its many issues had not waned. Now that Sidney was not interested in just saying the opposite of anything she said, they found they shared many of the same opinions. But there were enough differences to keep them entertained with long good-humoured arguments. They talked about their lives again and filled in more of the missing details.

One afternoon when they were out walking, Sidney suddenly said, “I enjoy these walks and I like our illicit afternoons - well, more than like…” he gave her a knowing look. “But, you know, we’re not teenagers anymore. I don’t want to always be creeping around, scared to kiss you in case Jenny bursts in or one of your guests sees us.”

“I agree,” said Charlotte, squeezing his hand.

“And it strikes me that you have put other people’s needs before yourself for a very long time.”

“Well, I don’t know…”

“You looked after people in your job, you cared for your parents, and now you look after the needs of your holidaymakers.”

“Caring for my parents and running a B&B are a little different...”

“Yes, I know, but tell me, if you had nobody but yourself to think of, what would you like to do?” There was a nice big tree up ahead and while Charlotte pondered his question they went and sat down at its base, their backs resting on the rough gnarly trunk.

“I think I would travel a bit,” she said slowly. “I’ve hardly been abroad.”

“Where would you go?”

“Paris,” she replied, letting her imagination roam. “Stroll along the Seine, see the Mona Lisa, climb the Eiffel Tower. And New York. I want to see that skyline. And Venice before it sinks.” She laughed.

“And what else would you like to do?”

“Well, I’ve had this daydream for ages but…”

“Go on.”

“We still own some fields and I’ve dreamt for a long time of growing grapes. There’s all this amazing wine being made on the South Downs. I’d like to grow grapes and make our own wine.” Sidney looked at the enthusiasm on Charlotte’s face and thought happily, this woman is always going to surprise me. 

“So what’s stopping you from doing these things?”

“Time, money.”

“And if we were together, properly, would that make a difference. I still have some money, you know, I didn’t give it all away to the homeless.” He smiled at her. 

“But how would… I mean I’m here and you’re in Sanditon and we both have jobs in those places and…”

“But together we could find solutions, don’t you think?”

Charlotte, thinking about possibilities she had not dared dream of, started to smile. Sidney took her hand and entwined his fingers around hers. “I know we haven’t been together for long, but we have known each other, sort of, for a long time... I mean, we didn’t really know each other first time round… but I feel like I’ve known you forever.” He stopped, and sighed. “I’m not saying this very clearly. But do you know what I mean?”

“I do.”

“If I’ve learnt anything, it’s that life is short and unpredictable. I want us to do everything we want to do, and not wait and maybe miss the chance. Besides, I love you, more than I thought was possible.” He smiled bashfully.

She smiled back. “I love you too.”

He brought his face closer to hers. “So, will you marry me, Charlotte Heywood?”

She kissed him softly and said “There’s nothing I’d like more.” They sat there grinning at each other until Charlotte added, “There are certain provisos though.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

“I’m not taking your name.”

“Of course.”

“We’re not getting married in a bloody cathedral.”

“God forbid.”

“And I’m not wearing a great big wedding dress.”

“You can wear anything you want.” 

She kissed him again but then said, “Seriously though, there are lots of things we’re going to have to sort out first. Like where we’re going to live, and my business, I’m not abandoning Alison. And I haven’t even met Henry and Alicia yet.”

The problems that Charlotte had foreseen turned out not to be problems at all. Charlotte hesitantly told Alison her plans, not wanting her sister to think she was deserting her. Alison wasn’t the least bit surprised, having expected this news since she first saw Charlotte and Sidney together. Long discussions ensued. It turned out that Alison was just as keen as Charlotte to reduce her hours of work at the B&B. With Sidney, they pored through the figures, agreeing they could hire more staff and so reduce their workload. They still owned a number of substantial outhouses, one of which they decided they could convert into a home for Sidney and Charlotte, giving them the privacy they needed. As for Sidney, he said he could manage his own business just as well from Willingden as from Sanditon, and was more than happy to escape the attentions of the good ladies of that town. Charlotte was introduced to Henry and Alicia, who were both fascinated to meet the real Charlotte Heywood, and thoroughly approved of their uncle’s choice of bride.

Without telling her sister or future brother-in-law, Alison applied for a licence to hold weddings at the B&B. When the licence was granted, she asked them what they thought about holding their wedding on the lawn. They were both delighted. A day was chosen in late summer, no bookings were taken for the B&B so the house could hold their family and friends. Henry and Alicia arrived with their partners. Crowe came alone. And Babbers and Esther, Babbers being best man. Clara couldn’t be located. Rumour was she was living abroad with a penniless lord, on the run from debt collectors.

Jenny was in her element, telling everyone that she was responsible for Sidney and Charlotte being together. Janey was still bewildered by the change in her aunt but had to admit that even if her aunt and new uncle were quite old, they did make a very handsome couple. Sidney wore a beautifully fitting suit and Charlotte a simple sheath dress in pale yellow, which Sidney remembered had been the colour of the dress she wore at that Graduation Ball. 

The sun shone and the simple ceremony was held on the lawn under the old oak tree. Lunch was served on a long table outside the farmhouse, with a space reserved for Bennet the cat, who had early on sanctioned the match. Everyone talked and laughed, and Babbers gave a speech about how Charlotte and Sidney had first met; he kept them all entertained with tales of how they had been at daggers drawn for most of that time. Then it was Sidney’s turn to speak. He rose and said, “I know it’s traditional for the groom to say he is the happiest man alive, but all other grooms were lying because I am in fact the happiest man alive, not them.” He looked fondly down at his bride, “Charlotte, you really are the most special person I know. I knew it from the moment I met you. As Babbers has so eloquently told us, it wasn’t love at first sight, although there was definitely some lust.” Charlotte blushed, the older ones amongst them cheered, while the younger ones looked a little uncomfortable. “We were parted for a long long time, but we finally found our way back to each other.” Jenny called out, “With a little help from me!” Sidney smiled at his niece and said, “With a lot of help from Jenny. I just want to finish by saying, I love you, Charlotte Heywood and I look forward to spending the rest of my life with you.” Charlotte stood up and kissed her new husband and everyone cheered and clapped. 

After the meal there was dancing, of course, Charlotte nudged Sidney when she saw her sister and Crowe dancing together, and they shared an amused, wondering look. Janey and her new cousins started to get to know each other. Jenny instantly decided she needed to take her new younger cousin under her wing. As soon as it was decently possible, Sidney and Charlotte snuck away to their new home. Although not completely finished, it did at least have a secure roof, a front door and a large double bed. That was all they needed for the time being. Next to their bed sat their suitcases, already packed for their honeymoon in Paris. 

“So, Mr Parker,” said Charlotte. “What shall we do now?”

“I don’t know,” said Sidney wrapping his arms around his bride. “What would Charlotte Heywood do?”

“Mm, I think she would do this,” she said and began by kissing him.

THE END for now...


End file.
